27th Spring, 515 AV – Zatoska Bath House
She had been working at the Bath House for a small time now, learning the basic arts that were required to fulfil her cover role and mapping out the first steps towards the subtler skills which would be her tools for extracting information. She had made some small progress so far but she was all too aware that there was a long way to go still. She was not begrudging of the time it took but she was becoming wearied with the fact that what she had illicited so far from various patrons were small time pieces of data – helpful but not of the calibre required to impress her new Supervisor. Indeed she had been left alone by Anelda outside of the professional context of the employer-employee relationship. She was not sure if that meant she was trusted or whether she was – so far – a poor investment.
It was in this context that she found herself at the greeting desk, the threshold of the Bath House itself, waiting patiently for a source of true value. As always her note book was before her, quill and ink pot to one side, ready for the notes to be input. She had written down everything she had reported upon for her own records, not merely as a way to organize and memorize what she had already gleaned but also towards her own ends. Not that she kept it in the open, the pages were torn out once copied and slipped into her lock box at her home. There to be used one day, for some other purpose. She knew all too well that sometimes small scraps of data could fit into a wider picture not yet foreseen. As such, as she flicked the pages idly, waiting for a customer, she noted that a full fifth had been emptied already.
“Jotting again Zandelia?” came the cheerful voice of Bethany beside her.
“So far I have had nothing come to mind, I suppose even writers have times where nothing can be thought upon” she responded warmly and with a smile.
“Shame. I'd like to read what you've finished one day. Think you'll be finished?”
“One day, I'm sure of it. One day I'll have enough to earn a pretty miza. So...where were we?” she asked as she pushed herself up and turned tot he girl.
“Tea, of course!”
“Of course, so many cups taken. If anything I have learnt how to brew tea on such a scale that I could drown a sailor. Let's see then” she ummed to herself as she set about the preparation of the umpteenth pot of dark brown enjoyment.
She had developed a curiously amenable relationship with her chief co-worker she reflected as she measured out the spoons of diced tea leaves, dried raspings that one would never have thought could be so delightful if implemented properly. Four heaped measurements were carefully poured into the clever contraption resting atop the pot – a sieve of sorts she knew. Very fine holes meant that the tea could infuse but would not taint the water they were boiled within. She closed it and bound it tightly with the cords as Bethany poured in the cups of water, equally well measured at Anelda's instructions. Dangling the entrapped tea into the water then they both lifted it onto the hearth, there to bubble away in good time.
“Do you think that everyone ends up where they're supposed to be one day?” the question came in a thoughtful tone, unexpected and it threw her slightly. She looked at the girl for a few moments, biting her lip in consideration before answering.
“I think you do what you can to get where you should be. Do I think it will just drop into your lap? No. Work is required. But...if it is worth it...well then the amount of work won't matter” she finished, a neat little description of her own feelings and current situation open for interpretation.
“I- Oh, oh dear. He must have had a bad case again”
“What? Who are you talking about?”
“Ulrich Grimsby!” came the hushed response as she nodded towards the hallway, “he's a lawyer. Works out of the Lord of Council's Office. He's very good, usually never loses”
“But he has recently?” she asked, getting the confirmation of a nod so that she didn't end up upsetting the man.
As he she stepped out, a neat little curtsy for politeness, and watched how he was almost stalking towards them. There was a dark glint in his eye and his jaw was set so hard she assumed he was hurting his teeth by now. She plastered a warm smile across her face as he came nearer and stopped short before her with a cloud around him so thick she thought about backing away momentarily before steeling herself. She was new at this game, it would be poor form to not try to meet the challenges she was supposed to overcome. She stepped forwards and slightly into his personal space, making herself as small and graceful as was possible.
“Mr. Grimsby, may I fetch you a cup of tea for your relaxation?”
“I do not recall seeing you before here Miss...”
“Sansom, Mr. Grimsby, Zandelia Sansom. Please, call me Zandelia. I am here for your service”
“How do you know me?” he asked curtly, eyes slipping past her and to her companion who was making herself busy and scarce by now.
“All know the skills of Mr. Grimsby sir”
“Indeed. Yes, I will take some tea if you will...Zandelia”
“Of course, and would sir like a public or private bath?”
“Private. Bath salts, the usual ones. The usual private bath too if you will. You can meet me there with the tea”
With that curt list of instructions he was stepping past her, all storm and wrath, towards the destination he clearly had in his mind's eye. She turned to Bethany who, after they noted he had fully taken his leave, heaved out a held breath slowly.
She had been working at the Bath House for a small time now, learning the basic arts that were required to fulfil her cover role and mapping out the first steps towards the subtler skills which would be her tools for extracting information. She had made some small progress so far but she was all too aware that there was a long way to go still. She was not begrudging of the time it took but she was becoming wearied with the fact that what she had illicited so far from various patrons were small time pieces of data – helpful but not of the calibre required to impress her new Supervisor. Indeed she had been left alone by Anelda outside of the professional context of the employer-employee relationship. She was not sure if that meant she was trusted or whether she was – so far – a poor investment.
It was in this context that she found herself at the greeting desk, the threshold of the Bath House itself, waiting patiently for a source of true value. As always her note book was before her, quill and ink pot to one side, ready for the notes to be input. She had written down everything she had reported upon for her own records, not merely as a way to organize and memorize what she had already gleaned but also towards her own ends. Not that she kept it in the open, the pages were torn out once copied and slipped into her lock box at her home. There to be used one day, for some other purpose. She knew all too well that sometimes small scraps of data could fit into a wider picture not yet foreseen. As such, as she flicked the pages idly, waiting for a customer, she noted that a full fifth had been emptied already.
“Jotting again Zandelia?” came the cheerful voice of Bethany beside her.
“So far I have had nothing come to mind, I suppose even writers have times where nothing can be thought upon” she responded warmly and with a smile.
“Shame. I'd like to read what you've finished one day. Think you'll be finished?”
“One day, I'm sure of it. One day I'll have enough to earn a pretty miza. So...where were we?” she asked as she pushed herself up and turned tot he girl.
“Tea, of course!”
“Of course, so many cups taken. If anything I have learnt how to brew tea on such a scale that I could drown a sailor. Let's see then” she ummed to herself as she set about the preparation of the umpteenth pot of dark brown enjoyment.
She had developed a curiously amenable relationship with her chief co-worker she reflected as she measured out the spoons of diced tea leaves, dried raspings that one would never have thought could be so delightful if implemented properly. Four heaped measurements were carefully poured into the clever contraption resting atop the pot – a sieve of sorts she knew. Very fine holes meant that the tea could infuse but would not taint the water they were boiled within. She closed it and bound it tightly with the cords as Bethany poured in the cups of water, equally well measured at Anelda's instructions. Dangling the entrapped tea into the water then they both lifted it onto the hearth, there to bubble away in good time.
“Do you think that everyone ends up where they're supposed to be one day?” the question came in a thoughtful tone, unexpected and it threw her slightly. She looked at the girl for a few moments, biting her lip in consideration before answering.
“I think you do what you can to get where you should be. Do I think it will just drop into your lap? No. Work is required. But...if it is worth it...well then the amount of work won't matter” she finished, a neat little description of her own feelings and current situation open for interpretation.
“I- Oh, oh dear. He must have had a bad case again”
“What? Who are you talking about?”
“Ulrich Grimsby!” came the hushed response as she nodded towards the hallway, “he's a lawyer. Works out of the Lord of Council's Office. He's very good, usually never loses”
“But he has recently?” she asked, getting the confirmation of a nod so that she didn't end up upsetting the man.
As he she stepped out, a neat little curtsy for politeness, and watched how he was almost stalking towards them. There was a dark glint in his eye and his jaw was set so hard she assumed he was hurting his teeth by now. She plastered a warm smile across her face as he came nearer and stopped short before her with a cloud around him so thick she thought about backing away momentarily before steeling herself. She was new at this game, it would be poor form to not try to meet the challenges she was supposed to overcome. She stepped forwards and slightly into his personal space, making herself as small and graceful as was possible.
“Mr. Grimsby, may I fetch you a cup of tea for your relaxation?”
“I do not recall seeing you before here Miss...”
“Sansom, Mr. Grimsby, Zandelia Sansom. Please, call me Zandelia. I am here for your service”
“How do you know me?” he asked curtly, eyes slipping past her and to her companion who was making herself busy and scarce by now.
“All know the skills of Mr. Grimsby sir”
“Indeed. Yes, I will take some tea if you will...Zandelia”
“Of course, and would sir like a public or private bath?”
“Private. Bath salts, the usual ones. The usual private bath too if you will. You can meet me there with the tea”
With that curt list of instructions he was stepping past her, all storm and wrath, towards the destination he clearly had in his mind's eye. She turned to Bethany who, after they noted he had fully taken his leave, heaved out a held breath slowly.
